Despite this I still managed to eke out cees, sometimes sneaking up into the bees when a course engaged my interest a little bit.
Terrible student. My God I pray my kids are like my wife and not like me when it comes to that.
So that September I rolled on out of Sudbury Labour Day weekend after another glorious summer, lean and brown and flush with cash, down the narrow winding highway, through the little towns with long French names, past the reserves, surrounded by granite and spruce and cold water, down past Parry Sound, Georgian Bay somewhere to my right, unseen, looming, and then four lanes finally, give her the gas down past Barrie and through the Holland Marsh, black stinking soil, through farmers’ fields now swallowed up by the suburbs and into the vast engulfing city. One night later I was drinking beer and getting high underneath a black black sky with a girl from the Catholic college, blue blue eyes, long brown hair, black surrounding us, in the distance the raucous party we were escaping, lights and laughter and later, warm sweetness in a dark room, my God.
The next day one of my best friends came down from Sudbury. Late in the summer we had decided to road trip into western Ontario for this week, visiting friends wherever said road might take us. So this night, a Wednesday (how I remember this will become clear in a moment), we kicked things off by getting ploughed in the big city with my gang. The next morning we rose early and unaffected, for the most part, by our previous night. Ah, to be young again! We hit the highway and pulled into Waterloo where we met up with two friends from the Valley who were going to school there. Can’t remember exactly if they were at Waterloo or Laurier or one at each – it’s a little hazy. We began drinking early and had a good one going as we watched in stunned disbelief as Bob Rae, against all odds, became premier of a majority government. Bemused we listened to one of the guys rant that this was it for Ontario and as soon as he finished school the next spring he was out of here. (he kept his word, moving to Thailand and then ending up in the States, where he still remains, even the elevation of Mike Harris and then Stephen Harper failing to budge him from his high dudgeon)
I don’t remember much about that night or the following two nights for that matter except that our little band of merry wanderers included at least two others. My best friend, who was at Laurier, met us that night and then came with us the next day to London and then back to Waterloo on the Saturday. And joining us in London for the last leg was a girl.
She was a tiny perfect French Canadian girl from the Valley, as the area north of Sudbury was called. Her long brown hair was curly and she had a brilliant smile and sparkling eyes and a gymnast’s body, tight and sweet. She was a student in London and joined us there to hang out with her buddies and take part in the festivities, the feminine in a beer drinking, farting, cock comparing, loud boisterous crew of young perverted men, arrogant and on top of the world. There were hints of a relationship just ended and a broken heart but she was joyful and laughing and she filled out our gang and made it perfect. That night in London we started out at another Sudbury house with a bunch of friends and we hit it hard, ending up in some bar somewhere, closing the place, staggering back to crash, reeking of booze and cigarettes and the stale stink of roadtrip.
The next morning we arose from our sleeping bags and couches and tramped down to our cars, us three old friends in one, the folks from the Valley in another and as we wound our way back east along old concession roads (why we did this instead of the 401 I don’t recall) I found that I was falling hard for the girl from the Valley, as I was wont to do in those days. We stopped for breakfast or coffee or some damn thing and I remember ducking my head in the window to catch a glimpse and laughing with her as she sat crosslegged barefoot on the back seat and as we pulled out and followed them I could see her in through the back window of the car in front of us and I had it bad.
That night we stayed in, having a good old fashioned house party, stumbling about drunkenly, raving and roaring and at some point late in the evening we found ourselves alone, an evening of flrting behind us and it became clear that the feelings were mutual and so when all had quieted down we found a dark and silent room and locked the door and shared a sleeping bag, keeping each other warm.
The following three weekends I made the pilgrimage up to London on Friday afternoon, coming back to Toronto on the Sunday. It was nice and easy and the days together laughing and the nights so wonderful and I was over the top and then she was coming to visit me and the night before she was coming she called and that was it. Mysterious but blunt. It was over.
Later I found out that the old flame had returned and had seen the error of his ways and she took up with him again, I certainly don’t blame him and I didn’t blame her either. I was sad but it was a beautiful month, I’ll tell you. It could have been worse. I could have been my buddy who went back to Sudbury, not feeling well, going to the doctor to find that he was suffering from alcohol poisoning after a week of drinking.
Or I could have been Bob Rae. Or, some wags would say, his subjects.
Last night’s game was a fun trip, just like the game last Saturday and the game on Tuesday and like Saturday’s game it ended badly after a wonderful ride.
No wonder Pat Quinn is steamed, they could be in first place in the division at 2-0-1 or 3-0 and instead they have coughed up at least two points and on top of that have given those points to Calgary, who might be 3-1 or 2-1-1 instead of that nice 4-0 they are currently sporting. Even more galling is that it has been the veterans who have made the killer mistakes at the end of each game. Last night they got the guys they wanted out there and they still kacked it up.
We knew there were going to be days like these and at the very least the club is playing an entertaining, no holds barred type of game. A commenter at Lowetide’s said yesterday that the club is playing like those pre 2006 clubs. The bad news is that those clubs always fell short. The good news is that they never left us feeling cheated.
So its going to be one of those years I think. There are going to be times where we’re going to be feel like we’re getting kissed all over by the sweetest most beautiful girl we’ve ever met, outside the world dark and silent, that lovely moment of grace.
But in the end its going to end in heartbreak.
So lets just enjoy the ride, shall we?